


Patrol

by foxdeer



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Elfling, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Feren - Freeform, Gen, Giant Spiders, Grief/Mourning, Little!Meludir, Memories, Mirkwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 18:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13487466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxdeer/pseuds/foxdeer
Summary: Whenever Meludir goes on patrol, he gets a flashback of one particular memory from his childhood.A little story that shines a different light on the happy-go-lucky Meludir.





	Patrol

“Meludir! Watch your left side!”

The shout from his commander came at just the right time. Without another thought, and with a rush of adrenaline, Meludir obeyed the shout from his superior, turning to his left a driving his sharp, long knife into the grotesquely hairy leg of a gigantic spider. The beast howled in pain, it’s jaws clicking fiercely in his face, and Meludir lashed out, stabbing his blade wherever he could reach. Despite himself, his hands were shaking. The spider advanced on him, forcing him to retreat, but his back met with another black, oversized, hairy leg. He stabbed at that too, feeling lost, unable to keep his head straight amidst the group of horrific spiders.

“Tauriel!” He heard another elf, Feren, cry. “Tauriel, there are two more heading our way!”

Two more?! Meludir could hardly keep up with the two he was surrounded by, noting that the other elves in his troop were expertly fighting with all the grace and skill that he was supposed to have. Yet, in these moments, Meludir found he could not concentrate as well as the others. He thought he was getting better – far better, in fact, than he had been in his first patrol – however there was always a lingering, nagging memory that he could not shake.

*-*-*

Small, innocent, sweet. All the words that had been used to describe Meludir by his parent’s friends. His parents were simple Silvan elves of Mirkwood. His mother was a cook in the kitchens of the royal household, and his father ran his own business keeping the horses of visitors in a well-priced stable. Meludir had always been proud of his parents. They were jolly, kindly people, who would have given their last to anyone who was in need of it. Meludir wished he could be like them for all his days – if he ended up being anywhere close to how well-respected his parents were, then he would know he was doing something right in life.

Meludir was small for his age. He was thinner than most elves, even as a young child. His face, though fair, was somewhat feminine in countenance; his eyes a deep green, and his hair a honeyed shade of auburn. He was polite, well-mannered, shy in some respects and outrageously extrovert in others. His mother’s best friend had always said that he was ‘certainly an interesting creature,’ and Meludir never knew if this was a good thing or not.

He turned away from the mirror, wondering how in Arda he could be considered a creature at all, grabbing his modest leather school bag and swinging it over his shoulders. Quickly, he hurried through the the main room of his home, slipping on his tan knee high boots made from suede. They had cost his father a lot of money last Yule, but already Meludir was worried that he was growing out of them.

“I’m now off!” Meludir called in a light tone, unsure if either of his parents would be in.

A rustle came from the kitchen area, and Meludir’s father appeared at the doorway wiping his hands on a dish cloth. He smiled softly at his son, his grey eyes wrinkled at the corners, and Meludir grinned back in reponse. 

“Nana has already gone to work early this morning,” his father informed him, placing the dish cloth down on the coffee table and walking over to straighten Meludir’s light grey tunic. “I believe Prince Legolas begins his classes today too. I think the occasion called for a special celebration breakfast.”

Meludir frowned slightly in disappointment. Though he would not admit it out loud, he wished that his mother had been at home on that morning to cook him a special celebration breakfast for his first day back at school. His father noted his dejected expression, and gently checked that Meludir’s school bag was correctly fastened. 

“Got all your school books, little muffin?”

Meludir nodded soundlessly, still a little upset that his mother wasn’t there to wish him well. Even the mention of his childhood nickname of ‘muffin’ did nothing to change his mood. He had gained such a nickname one day as a toddler, when his father had said that he was far too adorable – akin to a muffin that he could just gobble up. Kneeling down in front of Meludir, his father sighed, pulling him into a hug.

“Would you like me to walk with you? I know you like to walk by yourself, but I would be honoured to escort you, young sir,” his father joked, with a small yet flamboyant bow. 

Despite himself, Meludir giggled. “Ok, Ada. You can escort me to school.”

“Fine choice, young warrior!” He grinned back. “I shall get my jacket!”

To humans, Meludir looked as though he was nine years old. He was a child in their eyes, although his true age was closer to twenty five. It was true that he liked to walk himself to school, but he would enjoy the company of his Adar nonetheless. Soon, his father returned with his best green jacket, although the elbows had been repaired more times than was imaginable. He slipped something into his pocket that Meludir could not see, and opened the front door to their house, gesturing his son through.

The morning that greeted Meludir and his father was a fine one. The sun was shining, the sky was blue without a cloud to be seen, and the leaves on the trees were beginning to change shades as they approached autumn. Meludir’s family home was a quaint thing, hidden amongst a copse, a fair walk from the main town. For the most part, his family enjoyed being secluded from the hustle and bustle of the market town, which lead to the busy and noisy palace. There was always a commotion nearby to the palace, and Meludir preferred the peace of being surrounded by the forest. 

His father took his hand as they walked. He pointed out the way some of the leaves had turned yellow already, and even spotted a red squirrel making her way back to her nest. Meludir allowed the voice of his father to guide where he looked and what he noticed. He found it a beautiful experience to appreciate life just as his father did, enjoying the fact that his father had offered to stroll to school with him. And stroll they did, because the pace of his father was rather slow in comparison to the way Meludir would have otherwise bumbled down the pathway not noticing anything.

“So, Mel,” his father squeezed his smaller hand in his bigger, rougher one, “what are you looking forward to learning this year?” 

“Perhaps some archery,” Meludir answered immediately, knowing there was no indecision about it in his mind. 

“I see,” his father nodded. “Hoping to one day be a guard for the King then?”

“No, I want to be a warrior.”

At that, Meludir could that his father flinched, although he did his best to recover. Both of Meludir’s parents were not of fighting stock. His father regularly mentioned that the warriors he saw or spoke to always complained about the harsh life of being a frontline warrior of Mirkwood’s army. They had seen horrors that no elf should have to, or want to, witness. Yet, here was his little, young elfling aspiring to such a life. As small and wispy a child Meludir was, in all truth he did not look like he could ever be destined to be a warrior at all.

“You can be anything you want to be,” his father told him, honestly. “Your mother and I will always be there to support you in whatever you choose.”

At that, Meludir smiled broadly at his father. The smile seemed to light up his face. However, just behind his father’s shoulder, he noticed something that he had never seen before. Breaking free from his father’s hand, he rushed over to the trees that lined the pathway and pointed to a strange white string-like substance that seemed to be tangled between the trunks of a few trees not too far from the path. Meludir frowned.

“Ada – what is that?” He asked, walking steadily towards it. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“No,” his father agreed curiously, “me neither.”

Intrigued, Meludir wandered closer. It looked soft to the touch, and as he was almost upon it, he could see that it was thicker than it seemed from a distance. Gently, Meludir reached out a little hand, flicking the substance with his finger. It stuck to the tip, until he pulled his hand away in alarm so fast and hard that the string snapped. It appeared to reverberate, a bizarre ‘twang’ noise carried itself away into the forest. The elfling shrugged. The substance was not harmful, but it certainly was unexplainable.

“Meludir, I think we should go,” his father said, in a tone that Meludir had not heard before. “You’ll be late for school otherwise. Come on, we’ll report it to a warrior if we see one.”

His father went to walk back towards the path, but a shadow suddenly fell across Meludir as though the sunlight could not reach the forest floor. Confused, Meludir looked up to see why the trees had promptly decided to shade him from the sun. Instead, Meludir did not see the canopy of green above him, but a huge black hairy body of a creature so large it was easily bigger than a horse. Frozen in fear, Meludir watched in horror as it descended onto the string-like substance with huge, thick legs. It’s eight, large, globular eyes reflected the terrified panic-stricken face of the elfling, as it looked at who had disturbed it’s peace.

“Ada!!” Meludir screamed in panic, his feet unable to move from the nightmarish monster in front of him.

“Meludir!!”

Meludir felt an arm wrap around his waist as it lifted him effortlessly out of the way of the monster. His father had drawn a knife, though Meludir knew not from where, slashing aimlessly in front of them as a method of defending the two elves from whatever the beast was. However, even though none of the elf’s bold knife moves hit the creature, the movement of attack clearly riled up the monster and it moved with such a speed that was surprising for something so huge.

Both Meludir and his father ran back to the pathway, however the creature chased behind hot on their tails. They could hear a metallic-like clicking from the sharp pincers as it rushed along, knocking trees and bushes out of its way. His father grabbed his hand, dragging the elfling as fast as he could along the pathway. Yet, with no trees to slow the monster’s advance, the creature easily caught them up, and Meludir found himself pushed forcibly out of the way again by his father, who had chosen to stand and fight. All that he had was a small dagger, a few inches long at most, and every time he lunged forward in an attempt to stab the creature, he came dangerously close to harms way himself.

“Meludir,” his father cried, continuing his slashing motions to get the monster to back off. “Meludir, go! You must run! Get the warriors!”

“But Ada-“

“Go, Meludir! Go now!”

Although it pained Meludir to leave his father, he knew they needed help to overcome the beast. He dropped his heavy school bag to the forest floor, turning on his heel and rushing as fast as his young legs would carry him. He had only reached a few metres when he heard a cry of pain so loud that it still lived in many of Meludir’s nightmares. 

“Ada?!” He cried, turning on the spot.

His father was on the floor. The beast stood over him, it’s multiple thick legs forming a grotesque cage to block his father’s escape. His father was stabbing the creature repeatedly in the legs, but it was as though the thing could not feel pain, for it did not appear to be affected at all by the weapon. As though his father could sense that he was no longer moving, his grey eyes found Meludir’s green ones, and the elfling found he could not look away.

“Go, Meludir! Run!”

The creature suddenly seemed to rear. It’s bulbous body then curled over his father for a second, and Meludir watched in horror as his father froze in place as though paralysed. His eyes went vague, unseeing, unresponsive. Despite how much he wanted to sprint towards his father, Meludir turned and followed his father’s instructions to alert the Mirkwood warriors.

*-*-*

The fire gave off a stench that was so foul, he found it difficult to breathe. However, at the same time, he found it cleansing and a reminder that their job was complete for the moment. The patrol troop sat around in the nearby watchpost waiting for the fires to die out, and checking that they didn’t spread to other parts of the forest. A few tended to their injuries.

Seven spiders had died that night, and six egg sacks had been destroyed. It did not matter how many spiders Meludir killed. It would never bring his father back. It would never remove the vision from his memory of his father being stung and paralysed. Had he hung around any longer as an elfling, he would have probably seen the foul beast devour his father limb from limb.

“You ok, Meludir?” Feren asked him, handing him a smoking cup of freshly brewed tea.

“Fine,” he replied, placing the best happy-go-lucky face on that he possibly could. He had a reputation to uphold of the light-hearted one of the group, and he always tried his best to keep up that charade when it came to killing spiders.


End file.
